The Dragonsworn
by Mayofish
Summary: There are those chosen by dragons to serve them, knowingly or not. These are their stories: A night elf born before females were accepted as druid. A blood elf branded a coward because he lived, while Sylvanas died. They were chosen and the gift of the Aspects' cannot be refused.
1. Battle-Born

_I've been a thousand places  
>and shook a million hands<br>I don't know where I'm going  
>But I know just where I've been<br>I've flown a million miles  
>And I rode so many more<br>Everyday a castaway  
>A vagabond battle born<em>

_-Battle Born by Five Finger Death Punch_

She never knew what home was, but she knew one thing. She knew she was a druid.

Mama said never to fall in love. But Mama never expected her daughter to be a druid and it was Mama who found her summoning Treants in the forest behind their hut.

Girls couldn't be druids back then. It was a taboo they told her but when she came of age, she grew flowers instead of shields. She was a druid. They refused to give her a rite of passage and it was Mama who sent her away.

She traveled alone for years and when her feet first touched snow she thought she would die. The furbolgs found her lying in the snow, a single small tree her only shelter. They taught her their druid ways and they were barbaric and uncultured, the way of the bear. She did not speak their language but she wanted to learn and so she did. Soon, she was a wild bear running through the snow cover wilderness.

She decided she loved the snow.

It wasn't long after that that the world tore itself apart. She felt the ground beneath her shift and the lands get colder. She knew something terrible had happened to her once-people (the night elves weren't her people anymore. She was wild, she was a bear, she was a druid). She survived but there was feeling of weakness that now settled into her chest. The feeling of death. She left her elven form behind and lived in the crown of the world as a bear. She forgot what she looked like.

She knew then that she was no longer immortal.

Years after, the mages of Dalaran came and only then did she allow herself back into a civilization. She surrendered to her humanity and they spoke to her. The mages told her of what the world faced and what it was now facing, of demons and liches and they told her of powerful female druids. It hurt knowing that her people accepted others when they had refused her. The elves of dalaran poked fun at her nude face, the lack of tattoos a lack of adulthood, a lack of rights (she didn't like elves, high, or blood or even night. They weren't her people; they earned no respect from her).

She left and returned to the snow as a bear.

Here, she met another night elf. His hair was green and his skin was green and he was beautiful. She asked what a night elf was doing in such a place and he asked her the same question. He never gave her an answer. He taught her magic and he was a druid too, she thought, or at least his closeness to the emerald dream rivaled even the greatest of druids she had known. He took her to a secret place, a place with no snow, only flowers and trees. It reminded her of Hyjal.

She missed home.

He was tender and kind and she fell in love (maybe too fast, it was always too fast, wasn't it?) He felt like immortality and smelt like pine trees. He kissed her forehead and told her he loved her too and it was genuine. He hid a lot of things but it never mattered.

It did matter however when the blue dragons came. It was then he gave her the answer to all her questions and he rose from the image of a night elf as a powerful emerald drake. He fought the blue dragons in the sky, defending his home and the other dragonflights. She watched hopelessly from the ground.

He fell.

She rushed to his side and he told her he loved her. He told her to wake Yersa and he begged the livebinder to persevere him. He died as a glorious drake. Her healing magic was useless against such a beautiful being.

She misses him.

It's not long after that when she finds a dwarven caravan lost in the wilderness. They are looking for their leader. They fight on the ground she notices, and so she protects them and leads them on their journey. They teach her of beer and wine and how to arm wrestle. She is there for all of them through blizzard and storms and dangerous mountain caves. They survive because of her. They will never forget her.

They call her Bjorni.

When she returns to Dalaran she receives a message. They want her to return to Moonglade. They heard about what she's done and they welcome her back as a hero, as a druid. They give her her passage and they give her her facial tattoo and they give her a name. Bearpelt.

She is Bjorni Bearpelt and her story has just begun.


	2. Chosen

_Just like a crow chasing the butterfly  
>dandelions lost in the summer sky<br>When you and I were getting high as outer space,  
>I never thought you'd slip away<br>I guess I was just a little too late_

_-The Crow and the Butterfly by Shinedown_

She had a chance to be a Dragonsworn but she wanted nothing more to do with the creatures.

He found her wandering the snows around his Dragonshire. He knew she wasn't an ordinary bear. Every so often she would narrow her eyes at the hidden location of their Grove as if she saw something — a flicker of the dream maybe. He knew she was a druid and a gifted one at that. He watched her but never once saw her change out of her bear form. She was one with this form, and maybe even more comfortable than he was with his true form.

She would make a perfect Dragonsworn — the eyes and ears for Yersa while she slumbered. He approached her in his Elven form. He had forgotten how unforgiving the cold was to her people. She met his eyes and she read the recognition in his. She changed for him and stood before him in her weakest form — no longer immortal but her muscles and body was toned by the harsh cold of Northrend. She was larger than most Night Elves and he found her beautiful — more dragon like than she even knew. He introduced himself, Elasam, a wandering Night Elf just as herself. She showed suspicion at first, but she missed the company of her own people. He did not mean to mislead her.

He never meant to fall in love with her nor did he intend to allow her to fall for him.

She did not have a name yet and from her naked face, he knew she had been shunned for her powers and he was angry. The Green Dragonflight would never shun anyone for such powers regardless of gender! A druid was gifted! They spoke for long hours and when it began to get too cold for him, he showed her the Emerald Dragonshire. He called her Beloved in Draconic. She did not understand and did not question it.

Elasam spent many hours teaching the young druid how to use her magic — how to attune herself to the dream. She was a fast learner, but clumsy in magic, more comfortable using brute strength of teeth and claws. He was patient with her because he felt sorry for her. She was rejected for her gifts and that disgusted him. Their hands brushed against each other and he met her eyes. He kissed her, touched her and made her his.

He laid her down in the soft grass of the scared place and made love to her. It was his first time doing such a thing in his Elven form and he was awkward. She accepted him with open arms and despite the pain of it being her first time; she arched into him and moaned into his ears.

He could get used to this, he thought, moving into her as one. It was simple and perfect. It was after that, she told him she loved him and he kissed her forehead and responded in like. It was that night she saw the Emerald Dream for the first time.

It was not long after that when the Blue Dragonflight began to attack the Temple. He told her to stay hidden, kissed her softly and told her to close her eyes. She could still see, even with her eyes closed and she saw the truth, she saw the Emerald Nightmare. He promised he would be right back and Elasam rose to the sky as a powerful Emerald Drake — his true form.

She chased him, reverted to her bear form and ran through the snow in his Shadow. She watched him fight valiantly in the name of his Flight and she watched him fall. The magic he taught her was useless when it came to healing a dragon and he laid his huge head in her lap when he closed his eyes for the last time. She cried as she felt the snow suck the last of his warmth from his scales and she stayed there, hunched over his body, until an another dragon found her.

"Elasam was training you to be a Dragonsworn."

The druid started at the creature before her, she knew it wasn't a Night Elf because she had learned to see such things but she said nothing. She wanted nothing more to do with dragons.

"My name is Risera," the dragon continued. The druid just stared at the dead drake in front of her.

"Leave me."

"You can leave our Dragonflight, travel on as your own, but understand you have touched the Dream and you cannot escape it. Yersa gifted you."

"This is not a gift, dragon! This is a nightmare."

"It is indeed a nightmare. And we need help from druids like you to cleanse it. You are a Guardian of Cenarius," Risera said.

The Night Elf stood, her hands lingering on the scaled head of Elasam, before she turned away.

"I do not want it," she growled, wiping the tears from her eyes. Risera nodded and watched the druid leave, heartbroken and scared. The dragon knew this would not be the last time she heard of the Guardian.


	3. Hate

_I hate everything about you,  
>Why do I love you?<em>

_-I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace_

The more alike Bjorni found out they were, the more she hated Vor'kar.

1/?

Being sent on missions alone wasn't something new to the blood elf.

Vor'kar was used to being alone but was smart enough to realize when a mission was difficult enough to require an animal to assist him. He never kept his pets, often opting to pick an animal that was strong enough and well adapted enough to the land to help him for specific missions before allowing it to go free. But with his subpar magic skills, he often laid down traps to catch the wild creatures before he even tried to implant his will into their minds. If he didn't do this, there was too much room for it to backfire, and he would rather not have to kill the creature he was trying to tame because it was trying to maul him while he was trying to cast a spell. So when he was sent on a mission to the colds of Winterspring, the first thing he did was lay down traps to find a creature to help him navigate the snow, and keep him warm. That was not new to him.

What _was _new however was finding a night elf in one of his traps.

Night elves seemed to avoid the cold and he couldn't blame them, he didn't even like the snow himself. This one though had gotten her ankle stuck in one of his larger traps and had obviously been like that for quite some time. She was attempting to pull the trap free with one hand while the other was using magic to keep the wound from bleeding any more than it already had. Her ears twitched at the sound of his approach and she snarled wildly at him.

"Stay back, _blood elf_," she spat, unfazed by the cold. She was bigger than most elves, fuller and stocky. Her hair was short, white and unkempt beside a single short braid to the side of her round face—her purple skin covered in fur armor. Her facial tattoo caught his interest; it wasn't one he had seen before — a simple bar of color across her skin.

"Do you want my help or not?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"This is you're doing?" She growled. He expected her to go off on him about pouching and harming the wildlife but she just glared at him. That is how she got stuck, right?

He clicked his tongue, attempted to get closer to her again. She bared her teeth at him like an animal and he stopped moving again. She glanced at the trap, trying to pry it open, but with her full attention still on the blood elf, she misplaced her hand, cutting it in the steel. She hissed.

He watched in amusement, "Just how did a night elf such as yourself end up in my_ bear_ trap anyway? Usually your kind is so careful," he chuckled, but he clearly wanted to know the answer because she definitely didn't get stuck trying to disarm the thing.

Obviously she didn't find the whole situation funny and she stood, showing effort from the pain and as he watched, her form changed and she turned into a huge white bear. She roared loudly, attempting to charge at him.

A druid.

"Oh," he whispered hoarsely, his smirk falling. He swore he could feel the whole forest tremble at the sound of her roar. He was not expecting that. Although not one to be taken by surprise, the night elf had certainly shocked the blood elf.

He reached for his bow quickly and took aim but the druid didn't make it far. The trap tightened around her ankle with the sudden change in her size and her leg gave out under misuse. She fell into the snow and as her energy faded, she changed back. He lowered his bow and attempted to calm himself. He caught himself a fucking druid! He growled, his blood pounding in his ears. At least she was cute, right?

He approached her slowly but the night elf didn't move, just lay in the snow panting in pain, her hair matted with sweat. Vor'kar kneeled down next to the trap and reached for it, she growled at him but didn't make any further advances. He reached for the key to the trap and carefully sprung it open. The druid, feeling the pressure gone, leapt back, only to almost fall again; he caught her arm roughly.

"Do not touch me!" She snarled, trying to pull her arm free.

"You are in no condition to attempt to go anywhere. Let me take you back to my camp so I can fix up that wound," he was growing impatient with her and the scare she had given him wasn't helping him to want to be nice to her.

"I can heal it myself!"

He narrowed his eyes, "You are a Guardian druid, are you not? A druid most comfortable with the form of a bear?"

She said nothing, just glared at him.

"You are not versed in healing." He concluded. When she did not argue, he shifted his arm so that he was supporting most of her weight and lead her to his camp.

He set her down next to his shrinking fire and got to work cleaning out her wound and bandaging it. He made sure to put a sturdy brace between her skin and the bandages to help her support her own weight with the injured ankle. He reached for her wrist to wrap her cut hand as well but she didn't allow it, just growled at him. He gave up and stood, brushing himself off. She watched him warily.

"I need to go get some more fire wood. You are welcome to stay here while you heal, night elf," he told her and hoped she would. A night elf would make a good companion for this mission.

Vor'kar returned with several dry logs and found the druid still sitting where he left her, only she had a pile of dead pine needles next to her and was slowly feeding them to the fire to keep it going. She didn't look at him as he placed a large log onto the fire. He said down across from her in silence.

"Bjorni," she said suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

"My name."

He met her eyes through the fire and smiled, "I'm Vor'kar."


	4. Knights

_Come ride with me through the veins of history  
>I'll show you how godfalls asleep on the job<br>And how can we win when fools can be king?  
>Don't waste your time or time will waste you<em>

_No one's gonna take me alive  
>The time has come to make things right<br>You and I must fight for our rights  
>You and I must fight to survive<em>

_-Knights of Cydonia by Muse_

Vor'kar was alive for a reason and that reason was to see Bjorni ascend to a greater power.

_((Probably the last thing I'll write about Bjorni until the WoD Arc.))_

Vor'kar dreamt that night. The druid had stayed in the camp and she watched him warily until he drifted off to sleep. It was then he dreamed.

He dreamed of _her_. Kyndormi.

He hadn't seen her in years but he would be lying if he said he hadn't thought of her. She was a Bronze Dragon who had all but saved him from his madness. She had disobeyed the Bronze's 'no touch' policy and changed his future just by intervening. Kyndormi never told him why, other than he was destined for something else, but saved him she had.

Because while in Icecrown he had seen much, too much and before the dragon, the future laid out before him was insanity creeping into his mind. The battle against the Lich King was not a pretty thing, especially when it came to espionage. Vor'kar, after all, was a coward. And that was just what Sylvanas called him after he crawled back to her when she finally regained her body.

"_So out of all my rangers that died along with me, you survived? Just how did you manage that?"_

He had ran, of course; hid. But he never stopped fighting for her. He knew he had did the weak thing, he knew he should of died there and maybe later be graced with being risen as a Dark Ranger. Yet, he survived. If only out of his own spinelessness.

It was in Northrend that he realized how badly he had messed up. He had left his whole squad to die at the hands of the Lich King. And while fighting the Lich in Northrend, who else was he to face than those he had let die? Forced to kill those he had called his comrades, forced to face the truth and the constant taunts, it was torture.

It was enough to drive anyone to madness and Vor'kar, as a blood elf, was never that far from insanity.

But then there was Kyndormi and her soft voice. History said Vor'kar was meant to die there in the frozen wasteland — but Kyndormi saw more, saw an alternate ending to his story and so she stepped in. She warmed him and the two were close. Vor'kar may have even said he loved the dragon.

He dreamed still of her warm touch — like desert sand — and dreamed of her changing slowly into a night elf. Vor'kar awoke, startled. He lay panting, both flustered and shocked. He was angry. He missed the warmer climate.

"What's wrong?" it was Bjorni. She was still awake. Watching him no doubt.

"I hate the cold." He growled, sitting up, but the words still rung in his head, _'You're a coward,'_ and they almost stung worse now, years later.

"I like it," she whispered, leaning forward and prodding at her wounded ankle. It was going to leave a scar. She frowned to hide the pain.

The blood elf wrinkled his nose, "Why? I didn't think night elves usually liked this kind of cold."

"It reminds me of Dragonblight."

He fell silent, more in shock than thought, "Dragonblight?" he finally asked dumbly.

"I grew up in Northrend. Stuck there after the Sundering."

He then realized just how old she was. As old as him even. She was just full of surprises.

"I would much rather forget about Northrend than be reminded of it," he growled, crossing his arms.

Bjorni glanced up at him but said no more.

The druid didn't leave, not even when her injury was nothing but a deep scab. Every day, Vor'kar would leave to scout the area and every night he return to find Bjorni still at his camp. They talked some and Bjorni felt some kind of deep kinship for the blood elf. They were too much alike and she hated it—hated him, but didn't leave.

It was a few weeks later when she finally asked, "What are you doing here anyway?"

He wanted to ask her the same question, but first he answered hers, "There is a rumor that this is where the loyalists fled after the Siege."

"Garrosh loyalists?"

He nodded stiffly, "I was ordered to scout the area but I have yet to see anything out of the ordinary."

Bjorni chewed at her lip. She had heard of the horrors Garrosh had unearthed, but she had been busy in Moonglade. The Cenarion Circle wanted her in their ranks, but they insisted she be trained properly in druidism. She hated the formality of it all.

But Garrosh. That was an exciting matter, much more fun than training in things she already knew. That is why she stayed in the first place. The blood elf way out here—now that was a promise of entertainment! And Vor'kar just proved her point.

"If you find something are you really going to go at it alone?" She asked.

"I thought that's why you were here?" he smirked smugly.

She really did hate him.

"Do you have any dreams?"

"I once wanted to be an Archdruid."

"Do you still want that?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Because sometimes I think that you are the reason I'm still alive."

There tension in the air as they approach the portal. They watched it turn red and the commotion was a roar of voices—Horde and Alliance—melding together. They had to stop Garrosh. Bjorni thought of what this meant for the part of the Circle that was in Outlands—not this new Draenor. The two elves stood back, watching stiffly.

"We have to fight." Vor'kar said.

"For what?" Bjorni whispered.

"We're war criminals now. We've forsaken our factions."

Bjorni laughed, "I'm a druid of the Cenarion Circle. I stand on whatever side I wish. I, however, can't say the same for you."

"I won't let them kill me," he winked.

"Then let's go out with a bang."

Vor'kar stepped through the portal first.


End file.
